WILL the current flap between Malaysia and Indonesia over the origin of the Tor-Tor traditional dance lead to a greater popular awareness among Indonesians of their cultural heritage?

It certainly worked for batik.

“We owe Malaysia a big thank you. Without them trying to steal our batik, we would not have the awareness that it is precious,” said Indonesian Opera Society founder and executive producer Erza Setyadharma.

As we sat in a coffee shop in Jakarta’s upmarket Plaza Indonesia, he sought to explain exactly what was wrong with Indonesia’s arts scene.

With half the population struggling to meet basic needs and the political elite preoccupied with issues relating to corruption and political development, few believe they have time to concern themselves with culture.

“But you cannot just wait until these problems go away. By then it will be too late,” he tells me. “The key is education. Young people need to be introduced to their own culture in the schools.”

Batik, the art of decorating cloth using wax and dye, has a long history in both Indonesia and Malaysia. Traditionally, it was worn on ceremonial occasions, with various patterns, styles and production methods associated with particular social classes or geographic locations. Later, artists used batik as a medium to create paintings.

Until very recently, however, the art form was not deeply ingrained in contemporary culture. In the 1960s, the batik shirt became common as a formal non-Western attire for men, but the fashion did not last.

Observers like Mr Erza trace Indonesia’s current fascination with batik to a 2009 culture war with neighbouring Malaysia over the ownership of traditional dances, art and music.

That was also the year in which Unesco officially acknowledged the art form as part of the world’s intangible cultural heritage.

Since then, the nation’s most celebrated traditional textile has made a comeback, with the cloth appearing everywhere from local markets to high-end boutiques.

Batik has also been getting more official attention. In September last year, President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono opened the World Batik Summit in Jakarta.

Controversy, however, does not always guarantee that an art form will get the attention it needs. In August 2009, for example, the pendet dance was mistakenly described as Malaysian by a private company in Singapore preparing a Discovery Channel programme on Malaysia.

When Indonesian editorials and news stories incorrectly reported that the offending clip was a Malaysian government advertisement, ultra-nationalists held demonstrations across the country.

The Indonesian ambassador to Malaysia demanded an official apology, and groups of vigilantes roamed Jakarta’s streets looking for Malaysians to attack.

But when emotions finally cooled, it was clear that few were interested in the art form itself. The pendet, a traditional Balinese dance performed by young girls carrying bowls of flower petals, remains as obscure to the majority of Indonesians as ever.

The Tor-Tor, a traditional dance of North Sumatra’s Batak tribes, may well suffer the same fate.
Other traditional art forms are also in jeopardy. The gamelan orchestra, with its complex non-
Western tuning systems, survives courtesy of academic institutions such as Denpasar’s Indonesian Institute of Arts.

Traditionally, the gamelan’s main function was to accompany wayang (shadow plays) or other traditional dance performances. But with these becoming less common, the gamelan is in danger of losing its reason to exist.

Others face even more dire circumstances. Take Jakarta’s disappearing Tanjidor brass ensembles. Popular with Jakarta’s Betawi community during the 19th century, these groups play with a distinctive style and employ brass instruments with unusual designs. Once a common sight at weddings and other public events, they now struggle to find recruits to replace ageing members.

Only dangdut, derived partly from Arabic and Hindustani music traditions, remains an integral part of contemporary culture. It survives despite conservative Muslim concerns over the alleged vulgarity of some of its performances.

Asked about his own particular interest – the staging of Western opera performances – Mr Erza notes several aspects of government policy towards the arts that hobbles both traditional and Western- style cultural performances.

Instead of sponsoring such events, the government taxes them. “If you are holding a large cultural performance and selling tickets, you must pay tax three months in advance,” he says.

The tax is equal to 21 per cent of the ticket price times the seating capacity. Mr Erza cites an instance in which it took him months to get a refund when not all the tickets were sold.

Just 31 years old, Mr Erza’s ambition is to become Indonesia’s Minister of Culture. In this position, he says, he would use his influence to encourage large corporations to donate to a special arts fund that would preserve the nation’s culture and subsidise local performances.

It just might work, but is anyone listening?

(C) Singapore Press Holdings Limited